Category Archives: My Family History

It wasn’t all the time, but when I was little a trip to the cabin with grandma usually meant she would take a batch of “Cabin cookies”. I never got to make a batch with grandma she always seemed to have them ready to go, so I never knew exactly what was in them. I knew there were raisins, which I never liked in cookies, but there were so few in cabin cookies it didn’t bother me. I figured grandma was just trying to sprinkle some healthy stuff in cookies. She does that with recipes a lot, remove some oil and substitute applesauce and that sort of thing, so adding raisins just to make it more healthy doesn’t seem like a stretch. Not until I learned how they came to be cabin cookies anyway…

Prior to the current cabin on Moose River in Alaska that I knew and loved my grandparents had a cabin on 20 mile river. I only went to that one twice. Once when I was two and another time when I was about five. It was rustic. To even get there in the we needed a river boat, or in the winter they used snow machines and ride up the frozen river. There was no running water at that cabin. All water for cooking brought in and water for washing was collected from the river…or snow. Somewhere I might even have a picture of my aunt bathing in a #3 washtub at the cabin. I’m not going to post it here though. She’s still living and I’d like to continue to do so as well. 😉

For one of the many trips to the cabin on 20-mile my grandmother was going to make cookies only she found that she didn’t have enough of anything to make a regular batch, so she threw in the bits and parts of other recipes and there they were. They must have been a hit because after that it became a regular thing.

Grandma sent me a batch when I was in boot camp. We weren’t allowed to keep them in the barracks so I had to eat what I could in one sitting and share the rest. I almost didn’t get to have them though. Before I opened the package the company commander said I could only eat them if there were chocolate chip cookies. I knew what they were. Not that grandma only makes one kind of cookie, but how could she not sent cabin cookies? I opened the box. I’ll never forget his reaction. He looked inside the box, “What the hell are those?” He asked.

I picked one up, turned it just so, and said with a big grin, “See a chocolate chip.” He shook his head and off I went with my box of cookies. They aren’t pretty foo-foo cookies. They’re rustic cabin cookies.

A few years ago I asked about the cabin cookie recipe so my grandma mailed me a card. On 26 June 2010 she wrote in part, “I haven’t made the cabin cookies for a long time and I was surprised to find about 6 versions of it clipped together. I hear you have a cabin now, hope you have a lot of good times in it like we did.” I have yet to make my own batch of cabin cookies and it makes me sad that we recently sold our cabin and bought a camping trailer. Trailer cookies just don’t have quite the same ring to them.

Grandpa was always building things, adding onto my grandparents house, or building an apartment building. He always had a measuring tape hooked on his pants and carpentry pencil in his shirt pocket…along with a pack of Wrigley’s Doublemint Gum. I was with him a lot handing him boards, nails…or just stealing his tape measure and ball cap and being a genuine pain in the butt.

When I would go home I’d take my dad’s tools and build forts in the woods. I don’t remember it but I guess irritated my dad by leaving the tools in the woods often, so for Christmas one year grandpa bought a toolbox filled with my very own tools. Real ones. Of course just to keep things balanced my grandmother bought me a basket filled with sewing supplies.

That summer grandpa cut all the pieces I would need to make about five step tools. He helped me put the first one together. I still have it. – Actually my daughter has it in her room.

This little stool is mineI use it all the timeto reach things I couldn’t& some things I shouldn’t

Every Tuesday was Pinochle day for the Tupin club, hosted at my grandparent’s house. Card playing was a very serious activity. I could make myself seen on Pinochle day but as soon as the cards started to shuffle I was to leave the adults to their game.

On more casual nights when my grandparent’s played Pinochle with my parents I sat on grandpa’s lap and watched. He let me point to which cards I thought he should pass to his partner and which one he should lead or follow with for the tricks. At six it was still to complex a game for me to play on my own against the adults, so grandpa taught me rummy. I wanted to play rummy ALL THE TIME. It became mind numbing for grandpa and so one day he said, “I’m tired of that crap. I’m going to teach you a real game.” And that is the day I learned Cribbage.

It took me a bit to understand his counting. Fifteen-two, Fifteen-four… He didn’t quite explain that the cards added up to fifteen and that it was two points, four points, etc. But after a couple of games I only needed my grandma’s momentary help to figure out what to pass to the kitty on more complex hands, the hands that just make you want to weep a little when you have to break it up and pass good stuff to your opponent.

I memorized all the little rules like the non dealer cuts the pack, the dealer pegs two for “his heels” if a jack turns up. The non dealer counts first. And don’t forget “one for nobs”. We never played to the strict rules that if someone missed points in their hand that the other person pegged them for their own, but aside from that there wasn’t any leniency just because I was seven. I knew it for sure because the day I really kicked grandpa’s butt and double skunked him. He tensed up and his lips tightened. He was a little mad, but then I could see the pride. Buried a little behind the furry, but it was there. “Damn it I taught you too well.” he said.

“Do you want to play another one grandpa?” I asked.

“No I think I’ll take a break.” he said. “Ginny,” he called to my grandma, “she double skunked me!”

Grandpa and I played cribbage all the time. He had a collection of cribbage boards but we only used one at his house, and there was an identical one at his cabin too. Just the plain cheap board. Not the one with one they make with colored stripes over the peg holes, just the plain wood color one. There was also one he made, we used that if we couldn’t find our regular board.

When my grandpa died my aunt searched the house top to bottom to try and find the cribbage board we used all the time, but she couldn’t find it. She sent me the one he made instead.

I’m not one that has rows and rows or shoes in my closet, but for some reason, perhaps the importance impressed upon me of the event, I was very particular about the shoes I wanted for my first communion. I had somewhat easily found the ideal dress, but could not find the perfect looking shoes in my size. I was tall for my age and so the cutesy dainty shoes I sought just didn’t exist for my feet.

While dress hunting I also looked at the available shoes at that store. I think I found the right dress after the second or third place, but it was clear I was going to be picky about the shoes, so my grandpa took me to continue looking. He was a saint. Truly. I felt bad that it took so much time to find, but not bad enough to give up. Grandpa didn’t complain a bit. He simply took me to the next store he could think of when I didn’t find what I wanted. I honestly don’t remember how many shoes stores we went to, but if I were to look up the number of shoe stores in Anchorage Alaska around that time…he probably took me to each one that sold dress shoes for girls.

There is only a group picture of my first communion that I know of and I stood in the back row, so unfortunately I cannot show off the special shoes I finally found. I do remember that I really wanted velvety Mary Jane style black shoes with heart shapes carved out on the top and a bit of a heel.

I spent a lot of time with my paternal grandparents as a child. I stayed many nights at their house. My grandma would set up an old army cot at the foot of their bed for me. The cot was musty with hints of motor oil of a motor oil smell. She layered it with sheets, a soft blanket, and for extra added warmth in the winter, an itchy grey wool blanket on the very top.

Before bedtime I would watch grandpa brush his teeth. He could take his whole top row of teeth completely out of his mouth to brush. As a four-year old I was amazed by this. “How do you do that?” I asked him.

“Oh don’t worry,” he said, “you’ll be able to do it soon.” Thinking he meant it was something that required practice, I kept tugging at my teeth. He just laughed.

I knew nothing of my great-grandfather, Frederick Cobb Chase. Growing up all I had ever heard is that he was from California. In 2003 I asked my grandfather about his parents, but by that time he was in a nursing home with Alzheimer’s. I was given the full names of my great-grandparents and told that my great-grandfather was born in Lowell Massachusetts. He died when his son, my grandfather was 12. It took me ten years to gather enough information about my great-grandfather to build a life sketch and find the names of his parents, my second great-grandparents.

It turns out Frederick Cobb Chase, was actually born in West Springfield, Hampden, Massachusetts on the twenty-first day of August 1882 to a carpenter, Daniel Chase and Elizabeth Gott. His father was born in Boston Massachusetts. His mother was born in Lowell Massachusetts.

On the fourth day of October 1894 Frederick’s mother died by drowning at the age of 40. Frederick was just 12. Frederick’s father remarried a year later to Helen M. Burns. Frederick’s stepmother was 19, only six years older than him. Daniel was 48 years old, though the marriage record shows 42. Helen’s parents were John Burns and Sadie M, both immigrants from Scotland.

It’s not clear if the Frederick C. Chase found in the 1900 census is the correct one. If it is him, he was living as a lodger with Irish immigrants John and Mary Dwyer on 43 Tremont Street, Boston, Suffolk, Massachusetts and working as a bell boy. Mr. Dwyer worked as a manager at a theater. Also at the residence was a servant and several other lodgers.

Frederick’s father, Daniel died at the age of 56 on the second of December 1903. The primary cause was “hematurea” which has lasted ten days. A contributory cause of death was, “stomatitus”. His occupation at the time was furniture dealer. Daniel’s wife of eight years, Helen M. Chase was the informant for his death certificate.

Eleven days later, on the thirtieth of December 1903 Frederick married Carrie H Dawson in Nashua, Hillsborough, New Hampshire. Frederick lists his mother’s name as Elizabeth West, which was her name from her first marriage. His occupation entered as “home at present”. Carrie is the daughter of George Dawson from New York and Emma C. Dawson nee Webster from Massachusetts.

By the time of the 1910 census, Frederick was working as a piano tuner and rented a house at 1768 Atlantic Avenue. The street name shown on the census isn’t clear, but was located near State Street in Long Beach, Los Angeles, California. He was living with Helen N. Chase who was listed as his wife of nine years and two years his senior. It shows that there was one child born, but not living. Helen N. was born in Massachusetts from Scottish immigrants. No documentation of a marriage to Helen has been found.

Frederick’s wife Carrie was still living in Massachusetts with her parents during the 1910 census. Her name listed as Carrie H. D. Chase.

The twelfth of September 1918 Frederick filled out a draft registration card. In it his name was spelled Freddrick Cobb Chace. He resided at 4143 Vann Ness Drive Los Angeles, California and was a self-employed piano tuner. He lists Carrie H. Chace as his nearest living relative, but did not give an address. In the notes it said they were separated but not divorced.

Frederick Cobb Chace married Wanda Hannah Proebstel in Santa Ana on the eleventh day of November 1919. He was 37 and she was 21. Wanda was born in Washington State. Her father Francis M. Probstel was born in Oregon and her mother, Rosamond Chamberlian was born in Iowa. It was Wanda’s first marriage. Both were living at 4143 Van Ness Ave in Los Angeles, California. Frederick was shown to be previously married and now divorced, however no divorce record has been found for his marriage with Carrie. His occupation continued as piano tuner.

In 1920 Frederick still lived at 4143 Van Ness Ave with his wife Wanda, but by 1930 they had moved to 2107 Meadow Valley Terrace with their two children ages 9 and 6. Their house was valued at $7,500, which in 2014 dollars would be $101,620.20. Current Zillow estimate on the house is $1,166,872. They along with most of their neighbors owned a radio. About half of their neighbors were born in the United States. The other half were from places such as Russia, Romania, Germany, Holland, and Irish Free State.

The home of Frederick Cobb Chase family in 1930. Image capture of 2107 Meadow Valley Terrace Los Angeles California by Google maps.

I have his date of death as the twenty-first of January 1931, but I failed to record a citation for that and can no longer find a source for that information. I’m sending paperwork in for a certified copy of his death certificate.

My uncle, Frederick’s grandson, told me Frederick was a musician, and had his own band. He said he had heard Frederick had made a couple of records, and that he was the conductor of the Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra. But at this time I have not been able to confirm Frederick being in a band, producing any records, nor being a conductor of the Los Angeles Symphony Orchestra. The website for the Los Angeles Symphony does not show their history, but according to Wikipedia they only ran from 1974 to 1979. He is not listed as a conductor for the Los Angeles Philharmonic, which began in 1919. I sent them an email, but have not received a response.

Frederick’s first wife Carrie continued to live with her parents and younger brother in 1920. She worked as a sales girl in the confectionery industry still living as Carrie H. D. Chase and married. I could not find her in 1930, but found her again in 1940 living with her aunt Mattie and uncle J Alton Paine in West Bridgewater Town, Plymouth, Massachusetts. Her prior place of residence, Avon, Norfolk, Massachusetts. She was listed as single but still had the last name Chase and worked as a cashier in retail grocery.

** Update 13 June 2016 **
That was not the correct Carrie H. Chase I found in the 1940 census. I thought Mattie was Carrie’s maternal aunt Addie. She is not.

I don’t have the original. I received this photo years ago in an email. I believe these children are cousins of my grandmother. If so, the grandparents of these children are either Henry Alvaro Head (1858 – 1938) and Anna Lena Spoungburg (1860 – 1931) who lived in Utah and then Idaho or George Hamp (1867 – 1945) and Elizabeth Allsop (1869 -1951) who also lived in Utah.

My fascination with genealogy began about the age of twelve when I found a eulogy written by my grandmother for her father. I met him once when I was five and he left a huge positive impression on me. I remember when I arrived at his house the first thing he did was greet me with a surprise cradle he had made for my dolls. I also remember the jewelry he made from rocks. He taught me how to identify an agate. He got a kick out of a trick he played on me, “Do you think this will float or sink in the water?” He asked holding a porous rock.

“Sink.” I replied without hesitation. I wished I had been able to stay longer, to get to know him more. He was a true gem.

On another occasion he saw me looking at a picture of a young woman standing in a lake covered with lily pads. “Do you know who that is?” He asked.
“No.”
“That is your grandmother.”
“My grandmother isn’t that young.” I shot back.

The eulogy written from his daughter’s perspective allowed me learn almost as much about her as it did about him. Suddenly it was possible to picture her as a child with her parents. Later I came across a book. I didn’t realize what it was at first. I simply thumbed though it and then noticed some of the people in the book had my great-grandfather’s last name, Hamp. I began listing all the names drawing lines and arrows to whom they were related. Page one hundred and ninety had me mesmerized. There it was, Leonard Hamp, my great-grandfather’s name. This was all about his parents. I couldn’t stop staring at the pictures.

Image capture of 107 Main St. Grace Idaho by Google maps.

According to Gems of Our Valley the first hotel in Grace was the home of George Hamp Sr, built in 1907. It was also the first home to have running water and a bathroom. In the book they say Grace Equipment now stands in the place where the old hotel used to be – I don’t see a sign, but the image on the left looks like it could be Grace Equipment. Gems of Our Valley was published in 1977, so Grace Equipment might do business under another name or not at all. I wish they had just given an address.

I kept my hand drawn tree from this book for many years until the internet became a thing and I discovered Anscetry.com. The first thing I did was look up other trees matching the one I had. I downloaded their information that filled in gaps. – Don’t hate me, I know better now.

I showed my grandmother the new information I had and she shared with me the hand written genealogy from her grandmother, Elizabeth Hamp née Allsop. I couldn’t believe what I held in my hands.